Inbox - Fade Rift

[nonvenomous]

Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.

Comments

[heirring]

Yes, she thought as much. And rather than press the point, Wysteria simply allows him to slouch there as she organizes and tucks away the strewn series of studies and field notes and her own carefully crafted collected of documentation either into their rightful places or into the leather folio she caries about with her for her own reference.

It is only once the bulk of the papers have been put away that her attention sweeps back around. From where she is still on the floor, not quite having bothered to get her feet under her yet, Wysteria extends a hand to him.

"Help me up if you would, Mister Dickerson."

[nonvenomous]

To help her up he has to stand, and to stand he has to break the seal of this very indulgent slouch. It takes a sharp hiss of breath and a resentful rankle, joints popped behind his shoulders and in one knee as he rises, a felled pine tree reversing upright with an old dog’s reluctance. He has a hard night’s sleep waiting for him somewhere.

Once he’s up, just a touch of sway to his shoulders, he offers his right hand out with fingers splayed. Either awaiting further instruction, or content to improvise once she’s grabbed on.

Barely there, a little black tongue threads mlem mlem across bony tendon from the shadow of his cuff.